


haven in my heart

by tbslouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (briefly? harry doesnt know he is at first), Alternate Universe - 1970s, Famous Harry Styles, Fanboy Louis, Hurt/Comfort, Love Letters, Love On Tour, M/M, Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson, Recreational Drug Use, Rockstar Harry, Sad Harry Styles, Smut, underage/adult relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tbslouis/pseuds/tbslouis
Summary: “People don’t care about me, Louis.”He doesn’t realize the gravity of his words, the fact that it may just be the saddest sentence Louis has ever heard in his life. Louis feels like he’s gasping for air, like suddenly his lungs are ripped out of his chest as well, and he goes light-headed. He feels like he’s going to collapse at any second.“Then I’m not people,” Louis says.“How do I know that?” Harry replies finally, voice dropping into a mumble so quiet Louis almost misses it.“You said you’d let me take care of you, rockstar,” Louis says, voice soft. “So let me.”-1970s AU in which Harry is a rockstar and Louis is his teenage roadie that becomes much more.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 10





	1. I

“Hurry the fuck  _ up _ , Z!” Louis screeches, converse-clad feet slapping against the pavement.

Jumping onto his bike, he barely glances over his shoulder long enough to see the familiar mop of artfully mussed black hair settled over an intensely rolling pair of eyes. He can practically feel the wind fluttering off of them as he kicks off the asphalt and starts pedaling down the road.  The leaves on either side of the street sway with the force of it. It’s at least a 3 on the Beaufort scale. He’s suffered worse windstorms from the theatrics of Zayn’s eyelashes.

Whooping and pushing his feet impossibly faster, Louis glimpses behind himself to holler at the other boy.  “Come on, dude, we’re gonna miss it!” he yells again as he catches sight of Zayn’s leisurely cycling.

“We’re not gonna miss jack shit, you moron, it’s only three and the show doesn’t start until  _ seven _ ,” Zayn whines in complaint, keeping his relaxed pace. “And you said your mom is letting us borrow her car, yeah? There’s nothing to worry about, mellow out man.”

Louis sighs in defeat, stopping his pedaling long enough for Zayn to catch up to him, choosing to ignore the lazy smirk that has taken over his features. Asshole.  The rest of the ride to Zayn’s house passes by in light bickering and jokes so funny that Louis comes dangerously close to tipping headfirst onto the asphalt several times. Zayn doesn’t find his jokes quite as funny, but he’ll humor him every once in a while. Zayn’s just a good friend like that.

Sitting on his bike seat while Zayn runs inside to grab his overnight bag, Louis picks at his fingernails, thinking about the night ahead of them. They had just finished their junior year of high school and the summer was beginning, wildflowers blooming through the cracks in the sidewalk, the smell of chlorine sticky in the air with muggy heat, The Who and Pink Floyd playing through cracked-open windows on tinny radios and record players.  He tilts his head back and breathes in deeply, smiling as the sun beats down on his tanning skin. 

And tonight, finally, he would see his favorite artist in person. Harry Styles. His smile grows with the thought of him, his voice and his dimples, all rock-star and clumsy charming boy combined in a way that wouldn’t work for anyone else but just  _ did _ with him. He sighs contentedly.  It morphs into a chant the more he thinks it.  _ Tonight, tonight, tonight,  tonight _ __.

“What the fuck are you smiling like that for?” Zayn’s voice rings out. “You’re gonna get yourself arrested if you go around like that, it’ll give people the wrong idea,” he mocks, voice dipping low to imitate the boys at their school. 

“Just thinking,” Louis replies, smile dropping into something lazy instead, sweat dripping down his temples.

Throwing his bag over his shoulders, Zayn hums in agreement, but if his smirk is anything to go by, he knows exactly what -- who -- the other boy is thinking about. His infatuation with the rockstar is disgusting really, borderline creepy. But boys like them have limited options when it came to other boys they could fantasize about without it being labeled as  _ preying _ , so Zayn let him have this. Sometimes.

“You’re thinking about Styles again, aren’t you?” he teases, pedaling down the one street that separates their houses. “What are you fantasizing about this time, you perv?” he asks. 

When the other boy opens his mouth to reply and Zayn sees the sparkle in his eyes, he immediately backtracks, waving his hands and wobbling dangerously across the street, Louis cackling loudly as he goes on to explain his explicit fantasies.  Not that Zayn would know as he  _ la la la _ ’s and attempts to plug his ears, only driving Louis to laugh louder as he tips way too close to the ground beneath them and lets out an admittedly unattractive squawk, arms desperately shooting out to grip the handlebars.

“You see what your horniness does to me, Tomlinson? It almost kills me!” Zayn yells out incredibly, only slightly cowering as the parents walking their children home from school shoot them disapproving looks and steer their kids down the sidewalk faster.

“Oh  _ God _ ,” Louis groans, giggling into the crook of his elbow as they pull up to his front yard.

Dropping their bikes into a heap by the rose bushes Mrs. Tomlinson prides herself with, they jog up the porch stairs quickly. Zayn makes a beeline for Louis’ room while the other boy shouts his presence, the sound followed by the borderline-painful noise of several pairs of shoes slapping the floor and a chorus of high pitched squeals of  _ ‘Louis! Louis!’ _ .  Zayn begins digging through his closet while he waits, putting  _ Sticky Fingers  _ on the record player while he picks out clothing combinations for his friend. 

_ “Brown sugar, how come you taste so good, now?” _ he sings softly under his breath.

*

Dancing around the room and yanking out any article of clothing he deems worthy is how Louis finds him minutes later, in the middle of  _ Can’t You Hear Me Knocking _ .

“Impressive moves, I must say, Zaynie,” he purrs as he walks in, taking in the hurricane that has apparently gone rampant in his room within the past fifteen minutes.

Making his way to his desk he kindly ignores the way Zayn jumps and presses a hand to his chest, only allowing a slight grin onto his face.  _ Serves him right. _ Picking up his towels, he twirls around and saunters back to the door.

“I’m off to clean the poisonous stench of high school off of me,” he exclaims theatrically with a scrunched nose and a frown at his current ensemble of light blue flares and a The Who tee stretched tight across his chest. “When I come back you better have something magical waiting for me!”

“Of course, your majesty!” Zayn exclaims passionately to the other boy’s back, grinning when a middle finger is thrown to him over his shoulder.

*

Stepping out in a steamy waft of honey oatmeal and lavender, Louis dries off leisurely, wrapping one of the towels around his hair before he steps out into the hallway. When he walks into his room, eyes trailing from the outfit laid out on his bed to Zayn sitting on the floor, book in hand, a slow smile stretches over his lips.

“It’s perfect, Z!” he practically squeals, lunging across the room to smack a wet kiss to his cheek.

If he almost loses the towel wrapped loosely around his waist in the wrestling match that ensues, well, nobody needs to know.

*

Half an hour later, both of the boys are ready, practically buzzing as they each kiss Louis’ mother goodbye, feet shuffling in anticipation as they promise they’ll be safe at least ten times each.

“Okay,  _ bye mom _ ,” Louis eventually says with finality, edging towards the door and shifting the overnight bag on his shoulder. “We’ll be fine, we’re seniors now! See you tomorrow, love you!”

And with that, they race out to Louis’ mom’s car, a dusty blue Chevrolet Impala. As they buckle in, Zayn flips through the cassettes in the glovebox, settling on a mix that he and Louis had made the previous summer. When  _ Soul Kitchen _ begins to play, Louis hoots and rolls his window down, sticking his head out and belting out the lyrics to the bare strip of road ahead of them.

This is what summer is to them; a time to be free. It's a time to be wild and young, not a care in the world. And as the wind whips around Louis’ hair that Zayn spent the majority of the afternoon fixing up, and his eyes water from the speed at which he’s driving, he feels exactly that: young and free.

In fact, summer is pretty much everything to two teen boys in a small town in Southern California.

**

After stopping by their hotel to check in and freshen up, they stop at a diner on their way to the venue where Harry would be performing. Louis ends up eating only half his burger, claiming to be too nervous to eat any more, so they chat back and forth about what the night could turn into.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind if his drummer-- what’s his name again?”

“Liam,” Louis supplies, happily slurping down his strawberry milkshake.

Zayn sighs dreamily in response, mouth half dropping open as he chews. It’s endearingly disgusting to Louis. Definitely more disgusting than endearing, actually. He kicks him.

“Shit Louis,” Zayn hisses. “That fucking hurt you goon. Anyway, like I was saying,” he continues, shooting a glare at the boy across the table

Louis smiles in response, going back to sipping on his drink.

“I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to shag me. I mean,” he pauses thoughtfully, eyebrows pinched together. “Really, even if he had to stick it in me raw on stage in front of everyone, I wouldn’t protest,” he shrugs in finality. 

Spluttering, Louis only just manages to not spit his milkshake across the table and into Zayn’s perfectly coiffed hair. 

Jesus fuck.

“And you say  _ I’m _ the creep? Man, I don’t want to know what the fuck is going on in  _ there _ ,” Louis says, making a circular motion with his finger at his temple. He shakes his head. “You absolute horn-ball.”

Zayn laughs loudly, head thrown back at the other boy’s reaction, eyes squinting around his ridiculously large smile and Louis hates him, he really does.

“You’re fucking insufferable. Just for that, you’re paying for the food,” Louis says, sliding out of the booth.

* 

Arriving at the venue over an hour before the doors open may have been a little excessive, Louis will admit that much (not out loud to Zayn, thank you very much), but there’s something said for being the very first ones to arrive, guaranteeing their spots front and center of the crowd.  To pass the time, the two boys sit down leaned up against the entrance and create the most ludicrous stories they can about the people that walk past them. If nothing else, it’s entertaining, pressing each other to see how deep into their lives they can manage to weasel into. 

But as time ticks by and people begin shuffling into line behind them, nerves get the best of Louis and they both people watch instead, soaking up the early summer evening sun. Leaning his head against the brick wall behind him, Louis lets his senses take over. All around, he can hear the buzzing of the concert-goers’ excited chatter and giggles, can feel his too-tight shirt sticking to his chest, sticky with sweat, the way the late sun heats up the itchy denim squeezing his thighs, and he lets it all wash over him.  It feels monumental somehow, this seventeen-year-old boy at his first concert on the first day of summer, headlined by The Harry Styles, the one rumored to be into men, just like Louis is. The thought of it heats up and itches at Louis’ skin and he twitches slightly, trying to discreetly take deep breaths to calm himself down.

_ Mellow out, man. Nothing is gonna happen. Getting your hopes up is only good for letting yourself down. _

Keeping his eyes only slightly open, he tilts his head onto Zayn’s shoulder, breathing in the smell of his hair product and cologne, the slight smell of the diner they were at before. This is okay. This --  _ Zayn  _ \-- is familiar. Taking more deep breaths, he sits up just as the doors open, and that panic alights in his stomach again.

_ This is it, _ he tells himself.

With a slight push from the crowd, he grips Zayn’s hand and walks in quickly, showing the workers his ticket before suddenly coming to life, yanking on Zayn’s hand and jogging to the front of the open area, coming to a halt in front of the barricade only inches away from the stage.

“Holy shit!” he yells, turning to Zayn with stars in his eyes. 

Zayn is already smiling back at him and he pulls him in for a hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The inside of the venue is all velvet and exposed wood and smells sweet and musky, the slightly sour stench of pot already in the air, accompanied by the smell of sweat and people, smoke hanging heavy in the artificially colored air. The entire atmosphere feels like living.

Louis fucking loves it.

“Holy shit,” Zayn agrees just as the lights go out.

Louis’ entire body vibrates with the force of the screams around him, and he’s set on fire.

_ Holy shit. _

  
  


***

The opening act -- some kind of Rolling Stones cover band -- passes by in a flurry of too-tight jeans and long greasy hair, Louis singing shamelessly loud as the adrenaline courses through him, pulling at Zayn’s shoulders and leaning into him. As they leave the stage and the venue is drowned in darkness again, Louis turns to Zayn and promptly starts freaking out again. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he starts, face heating up even more with the realization of what’s about to happen. “Zayn, Zayn. Oh my  _ God. _ I’m gonna throw up everywhere, seriously, I might literally projectile vomit all over his shoes. What if he sees me throw up?!” he exclaims manically, unaware of the lights slowly rising around him. “I can’t do this, Zayn. I’m sorry but I really can’t.”

And right as Zayn opens his mouth, already quirked somehow with both amusement and concern, the first notes of a guitar ring out accompanied by drums and a very distinct British voice, all at once, and the crowd around them cheers deafeningly. Louis’ legs give out, his head immediately whipping to the stage in front of him.

_ She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes  _

_ Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect _

_ And all the boys, they were saying they were into it _

_ Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck _

As he searches desperately -- nauseously -- for the familiar outline of a certain British 26-year-old man, his panic simmers away, replaced by adrenaline and desperation. A desperation to see the man that he’s idolized (obsessed over) for the past two years. He catches the eye of his guitarist, some American man by the name of Mitch, and his eyes graze over Liam at the drums, biceps bulging under his shirt, eyes somehow kind and intimidating all at once.

His head snaps to the boy next to him, who is seemingly in a trance as he stares longingly at the man on stage. As Louis opens his mouth to tease him, a shadow appears in the corner of the stage and he just  _ knows _ it’s him.

Without thinking about it, he starts singing along with him, the lyrics practically ingrained in his brain at this point. As his vocal cords ache with the strain of his screams, he continues to stare intently at the shadow, beginning to wonder if that’s really the man whose voice is currently ringing out through the concert hall. 

_ She’s driving me crazy but I’m into it, but I’m into it _

_ I’m kind of into it _

_ It’s getting crazy, I think I’m losing it, I think I’m losing it _

Louis flings his head from side to side violently, sweat flinging off his temples and from the ends of his hair. He and Zayn turn to each other on the next line, throwing their arms up and jumping around crazily as they scream to each other, faces split into incredible smiles.

_ Oh, I think she said ‘I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business!’ _

The two boys laugh through the next few seconds, disbelief written across their faces as they embrace quickly. In the middle of a concert, bodies shove against them, the most beautiful boy’s voice fades to background music, and it feels like a defining moment in Louis’ life. He grins wider and pulls back just in time to see the hottest thing he has ever experienced in the past seventeen years of his life.

Only a mere few feet away from him, stands Harry Styles in all his long-haired, infinite-legged glory. On his knees. In front of his guitarist. Louis’ brain short-circuits with the force of how quickly arousal rips throw him. 

Oh God. Louis is about to die right here, right now.

Just when he thinks it couldn’t get any worse (Better? Louis can’t decide right now.), he hears the line that the man is singing and he almost blacks out.

_ It's New York, baby, always jacked up _

_ Holland Tunnel for a nose, it's always backed up _

And then he leans forward and  _ oh _ . He sniffs a line off of Mitch’s guitar, right in front of a crowd of a few thousand people. Turned halfway towards the audience, Louis gets the perfect view of his unfairly flawless side profile, how he straightens back up and tilts his head back, wiping under his nose with a knuckle and then sucking it into his mouth. The arch of his neck is dizzying, as is the long curly hair cascading down his shoulders, the numerous rings accompanying his fingers, the jewels refracting the lights from above the stage and casting his face in a golden hue. He looks like a Greek God. The God of temptation, if Louis was a betting man.

_ Fuck.  _

It all happens in only a split second, but Louis feels like he’s in a trance. Why does Harry Styles have to be a druggie? And why does he have to be  _ so fucking hot _ while doing it? It’s unfair, not to mention detrimental to Louis’ health.  Louis’ legs turn to jelly as the crowd around him roars, Harry barely recovering in time to sing the next line. Louis feels like he’s the one who just snorted a line when the older man finally,  _ finally _ turns around fully and immediately locks eyes with him. And smirks.

The Harry Styles smirks at Louis Tomlinson.

Louis doesn’t know how to react and immediately stills, heat creeping up his neck and to his cheeks rapidly as his mouth remains slightly open. Is this even real life? 

Beside him, he can hear Zayn laughing, knocking hips with him, can hear the ear-splitting sound of the crowd shouting and cheering, the instrumentals of the song carrying on, but it all fades to background noise as his eyes focus solely on Harry. Harry who is still staring at him, still singing/screaming perfectly steady as he stalks towards the front of the crowd -- towards  _ Louis _ . Kneeling at the edge of the stage, he reaches a slightly trembling hand out to the boy, resting a hand on his jaw and brushing a too-gentle thumb across his cheekbone.

Louis stares on, unblinkingly, cheeks flaming as he brings his own hand up to circle the man’s wrist. If possible, Harry’s smirk grows more, momentarily letting the crowd continue the song while he sets his microphone on the stage next to his folded legs. Louis lets a smile stretch across his face, lets Harry wrap a too-big hand around the back of his neck and pull him in close, lets him brush his lips against his own for only a split second before he’s suddenly gone, frolicking around the stage as he continues the song in a flurry of jerky limbs, already slick with sweat, and slowly darkening eyes, his pupils taking over the mossy green that Louis is somehow already so familiar with.

As the first song fades into the next, a slower but heavier one that Louis recognizes from his freshman year, he remains still, in the same position he was in when Harry slid away. He comes back on a shove from Zayn when Harry looks over his shoulder, shooting him a knowing grin and a wink.

“Louis, what the fuck, man?” Zayn exclaims, eyes wide in shock, cheeks rosy with exertion.

He looks like the embodiment of youth and happiness and -- is Louis okay? What the fuck just happened?

“Zayn,” he replies, eyes completely wide. “What the fuck? Did that just-” he glances back at the man on stage, who was now occupying himself with the numerous amounts of bras littering the ground. “Oh my god, I just kissed Harry Styles. My first kiss was Harry Styles. Harry Styles!” 

Zayn just laughs loudly in response, locking a tight arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulling him into his side. Count on Zayn to be the one to know just what Louis needs the moment after he is kissed by the man that has plagued his everyday thoughts and dirtiest fantasies for the past two years.  After that, Louis comes back to life, screaming and singing and jumping like a maniac, shooting Harry a dirty smile every time he glances his way. As a joint is pressed into his fingers and he sucks it purposely, eyes locked on the man’s on stage, he feels like the most powerful person in the room.

Their highs kick in not simultaneously, but peak at the same time. Louis can tell by the way Harry begins to twitch and shake as he parades around, by the way he interacts with his bandmates and the crowd, the way he grinds his thickening cock on his microphone stand as he stares at the boy in the front of the crowd.  Louis isn’t much better, eyes heavy and head hazy as he dances with his hands in the air or locked around Zayn’s neck, swaying together as the songs slow in pace, instead favoring a heady bass. He feels dizzy with arousal, unable to keep his eyes off Harry, barely able to keep his hand from slipping into his own pants. 

Just when he thinks he can’t become more sexually frustrated, the lights in the venue turn completely red and a guitar starts playing a heavy mid-tempo beat, something unfamiliar to Louis and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Harry stalks back to his microphone stand, dark eyes boring into Louis’. 

_ Here to take my medicine, take my medicine, _

_ Treat you like a gentleman, _

_ Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline _

_ I think I’m gonna stick with you _

_ Here to take my medicine, take my medicine _

_ Rest it on your fingertips _

_ Up to your mouth, feeling it out _

_ Feeling it out _

Harry lifts a finger, eyes still locked with Louis, and places it in between his lips, biting on it for a split second before continuing the song, hips still flush with his microphone stand.

Louis feels like he’s on fire, and if he doesn’t get a hand on himself soon, he might cry, or cum in his pants. Either way, not something he wants to experience at a Harry Styles concert. 

_ I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted _

_ And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you tasted _

Louis blushes with the implication, eyelashes fluttering at the thought of Harry dreaming of how  _ he _ tastes. 

_ If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive _

_ You got that salt and I got me an appetite, now I can taste it _

_ We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh _

As Harry  _ la la la _ ’s up on stage, Louis turns back to Zayn, whose eyes are currently glued to the man behind the drums. Louis rolls his eyes.  _ Of course _ . Nudging him to shake him out of the thoughts Louis isn’t -- and doesn’t want to be -- privy to, he grins and points to his chest.

“Do you have a j on you?” he asks, voice raising over the drums and guitars and vocals taking up the space around them.

Zayn rolls his eyes but nods regardless, digging in his jeans’ front pocket and pulling out probably the  _ saddest _ joint Louis has ever seen, all smooshed and crinkled up. Surprised by the state of it he lets out an abrupt laugh, throwing his head back and accidentally catching Harry’s eye as he does so. He’s smiling down at him as he sways almost violently on stage. Louis’ face heats up for the millionth time tonight as he sticks the sad-looking joint between his lips, tapping the shoulders of the concert-goers next to him in search of a light.

While yelling three people over to a teenage girl, Louis feels a tap on his own shoulder and turns to see none other than Harry perched behind him, lighter held in the palm of his hand.

Louis smiles as flirtily as he can and says, “What, you come back to kiss me again?”

Harry just shakes his head in response, smile still firmly plastered on his features. Reaching forward, he flicks the lighter, lighting the joint between Louis’ lips with ease while he continues singing the song, and  _ fuck _ , that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.

_ Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes _

_ Tingle running through my bones _

_ The boys and the girls are in _

_ I mess around with him _

_ And I'm okay with it _

Louis stills, eyes widening at the male terms. He can tell Harry notices too, if the intense gaze he fixes Louis with is anything to go by. Louis knows, he knows there have always been speculations, there have always been rumors going around about The Harry Styles picking up numerous boys on tour and taking them back to his hotel, sometimes to his tour bus if he has to. And that’s always meant so much to Louis, the prospect of being successful and well known, a big figure in the public eye that’s also queer. It’s not something most people discuss these days. Even if you  _ were _ , it was mostly kept secret, seen as some kind of perversion or illness.  No one wanted to take the risk.

And here Harry Styles is, kissing Louis and lighting joints for him  _ and _ singing some kind of gay songs to him, and Louis-- well it’s just a lot, okay? His body can’t decide what to do, his cheeks heating up with the confirmation of  _ Harry Styles, 70s rockstar: Queer!  _ and his eyes tearing up with an overwhelming feeling of validation and pride. 

He wants to scream, to let out this pent up energy brewing inside of him on this balmy summer night in California, in the middle of a concert surrounded by so many bodies-- so many  _ lives _ . He’s hit with a sudden overwhelming feeling of wanting to know everyone who is in this room with him right now. He feels like he’s becoming a completely different person on this night, coming in a confused seventeen-year-old boy, and most likely driving back home tomorrow with a newfound sense of purpose-- with an undeniable feeling that everything is going to be okay. 

He just feels so much. He wants to scream, but Harry Styles is singing some unreleased song that he’s never heard before and he can’t yell the lyrics along with him, so he pushes that feeling down and locks his eyes with the man in front of him, ignoring the tears gathering on his lash line.  With one glance at the man in front of him, he knows that  _ he _ knows how he feels, and takes a deep inhale of the joint, eyes still lazily trained on Harry.

_ I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it _

_ And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you ride it _

Louis exhales sharply at the prospect of someone riding Harry and then him just  _ writing a song about it? _ How is he even real?

_ If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive _

_ You got that salt and I got me an appetite, now I can taste it _

_ We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh _

Harry continues singing, perched on a stage only a few inches from Louis, obviously sweaty and horny and cocky and just so  _ so _ attractive that Louis shoots his arm out and grips his shirt, yanking his face towards his own. Close enough that their lips are just barely grazing each other, Louis can feel the heat of his face, can feel the tickle of his long curls on his own cheeks, would normally be able to see the greens and goldens of his eyes if he wasn’t so blasted right now.  Separating his lips, he breathes the smoke he inhaled into the other boy’s mouth, reveling in the way his breathing stutters, the way he pushes harder against Louis’ mouth, gripping him in a real kiss.  Pulling back slightly, Harry breathes out the smoke he inhaled back into Louis’ face gently.

_ I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted _

Pulling the microphone away from his face, Harry leans in once again, pushing his lips forcefully against the other boy’s this time, their respective highs forcing moans out of both of them. Slipping his tongue into Louis’ mouth, Harry places a large hand around the back of his head, scratching lightly at his hair while he sucks lightly on his tongue. 

Louis may die tonight. And he doesn’t even fucking care.

Holding his lit joint in one hand, he brings the other up to Harry’s long curls, pulling on them lightly and reveling in the gasp it pulls from the other man, surging up with one more kiss before pulling back again, suddenly aware of the crowd around them.  Oh God, Louis just made out with The Harry Styles in front of an entire venue full of people. Placing the joint back between his lips, he sucks heartily, pointedly ignoring the intense gaze of the man directly in front of him. As he begins exhaling, Harry leans in once again, impossibly soft mouth barely grazing Louis’ ear.

“Stay once I’m done, I’ll give the security a heads up. Wanna bring you backstage, pretty.”

And then he’s gone, back to bouncing around the stage as he sweats off the remainder of his high. There are only two songs left to his set and Louis spends it alternating between singing along as loud as he can and sucking down the rest of the joint, passing it back and forth with Zayn.

But three things stay for the rest of the show: the smile on his lips, the sticky warm flush on his cheeks, and Harry Styles’ eyes on him.

It feels like euphoria.

*

The show ends in a flurry of a sweaty and now topless Harry Styles prancing across the stage, grinning manically as he’s showered in bras and flowers and little baggies that are  _ definitely  _ drugs which is.. new, to say the least.  He leaves the stage with one last wink thrown over his shoulder to Louis, and the lights turn back up as people shuffle out around them, the air still hazy with smoke. As Zayn turns to leave, Louis grips his arm, confused.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Zayn stares at him before replying. “Don’t tell me we’re… staying? I mean I can see that there was, ah, quite the spark between the two of you, don't think I didn’t notice,” he winks.

Louis’ lips stretch into a smirk as he replies. Of course, Zayn didn’t hear Harry over the volume of the crowd.

“Correct, my beautiful friend. We’re not going anywhere, because your totally hot best friend got himself invited backstage by England’s biggest rockstar. No need to thank me, it was all my pleasure.”

He grins, slinging an arm around Zayn’s shoulder and pulling him into his side as the other boy squirms, trying to get a look at his face.  “Are you shitting me? Louis, what the fuck, I was  _ joking _ .”

Louis’ mouth widens in reply just as a  _ humongous _ security guard steps in front of them. He hadn’t realized how quickly the crowd around them had dispersed and lifts his eyes slowly, nervous regardless of having a reason to still be here.

He swallows.

“I’m Paul,” the man says. “Are you the one H asked for?”

He reaches a hand out and Louis takes it in his much smaller one, shaking it firmly before dropping it.

“That would be me, assuming ‘H’ is Harry. I’m Louis and this here is Zayn,” he says, throwing a thumb towards the boy currently glued to his side, eyes so wide and so scared.  Louis would laugh if he wasn’t shaking with nerves himself.

Paul just smiles in response, something way too soft for a man his size that immediately puts Louis at ease.  “Nice to meet you. Follow me, boys, and don’t sneak off, you hear?” he says firmly.

When he receives two nervous nods in reply, he abruptly turns and strides towards a gate at the end of the standing area. Scrambling to keep up with his fast pace, Louis and Zayn trip over their feet to catch up to him, shooting disbelieving looks to each other as they walk through the bright hallways behind the stage.  As they pass door after door, some having different band member’s names that Louis recognizes, his heart steadily begins to beat faster, his hand trembling slightly by his side. As they come to a slightly cracked open door with the label  _ Harry Styles’ Dressing Room _ written haphazardly on a piece of paper in pink marker, he takes a deep breath.

“H, my boy!” Paul bellows, shoving the door open harshly. “I brought your boys, Louis and Zayn, you best learn their names this time or I’ll be calling Anne about how her only son still hasn’t learned his manners at the age of twenty-six.”

Louis’ head spins with how he talks to Harry, firmly like a father, but also teasingly like a best friend. He already likes him. Louis snaps his head up from where he had been staring at his own pigeon-toed feet when he hears a familiar deep voice ring out.

“I’ll have you know, I’m very respectful to my guests, Paul,” the man says, still blocked by Paul’s broad body. “I don't think I’ve had a single guest yet dissatisfied with my services.”

Louis’ knees go weak at the tone of his voice, much too cocky to be appropriate, but so obviously self-satisfied, and Louis needs to see him  _ right now _ , needs to get his mouth on him within the next five minutes or he may explode. 

He shuffles nervously behind Paul, scooting to his right to peak an eye out from behind the man’s insanely large biceps. And there in all his shirtless, sweaty, tattooed glory stands Harry Styles.

His back is turned to them and he’s stripped down to only a pair of obscenely tiny briefs. He’s digging through a brown colored leather bag that is strategically balancing on a stool, throwing out items every which way as his back muscles flex with every movement, turning Louis’ legs into jello as he trembles and stares on, wide-eyed.

He’s shaken out of his wonderment when Paul speaks up again. “Right, well, be safe boys. We leave in an hour, Harry you know the drill.”

And with that, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving Zayn and Louis standing awkwardly by the door, mouths agape as they both shamelessly ogle Harry’s ass.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, boys. I did just have my tongue in one of your mouths not even an hour ago.” He looks at the boys over his shoulder, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously. Raking His eyes up and down Louis’ body, he slowly turns to face him fully, completely ignoring Zayn by his side.  Well, that was a first.  “You’re Louis, I presume,” he says, stalking towards them, completely ignoring his current state of undress.

Reaching Louis, he pointedly slides his eyes to the dark-haired boy standing next to him before snapping them back to the one directly in front of him.

“Right, who’s this one then?” he asks, cocking his head to the side, an unreadable expression on his face. “If you brought him here to share, I think I should let you know, little one, that I don’t like to share what’s mine.”

_ What the fuck.  _

“Um,” Louis stammers, cheeks heating up as Harry smirks at the sound. “This is Zayn, we came together- not  _ together  _ together! But we came to your show together and we’re staying at a hotel tonight and I couldn’t just leave him here by himself or without at least telling him, you know?” Louis gasps out. “And I thought it would be unfair for  _ me _ to meet the Harry Styles and not let him, although he is partial to your drummer, but then I thought maybe he could meet Liam  _ too _ and-,” and then Louis is cut off by Harry’s hands coming to rest on his cheeks.

“Slow down love bug,” he says, lips stretching around the letters syrupy slow.

Louis’ eyes dart to watch the movement, instinctively licking his own lips in response. Harry smiles sweetly around his next words, flattered by the boy’s blatant infatuation. It isn't something new, his body count something that could vouch for him, but it's sweet nonetheless. His apparent innocence is charming and genuine enough that Harry can't doubt his nerves for a second. 

He wants to completely destroy him.

“If you want your friend to meet up with Liam, we can arrange that, yeah? Whatever you need me to do, let me know,” he suggests, thumbs brushing over the smaller boy’s cheekbones like he had done on stage.

Louis looks up at him through his lashes while he nods, painfully aware of the height difference between them. Even as Harry bends down to be closer to him, Louis has to look up at him. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is.

“Good,” Harry says, before letting go of his face. He claps his hands together once. “Let’s go find my band then!” he offers excitedly before pushing past them and into the hallway, still not wearing more than underwear and a pair of socks. 

Looking at each other behind Harry’s back as they race to catch up, Louis and Zayn smile widely, eyebrows both raised in confusion but pleasant surprise. They quicken their pace to catch up with Harry right as he stops by a door with a similar handwritten sign on it. Louis can see Zayn’s throat bob as he swallows and he reaches out to squeeze his hand briefly, smile blinding.

“Let’s go get your boy, mate!” Harry says excitedly, shoving the door open and stumbling his way inside.

Louis leans against the doorframe, gazing into the room as Zayn and Harry walk inside, chatting loudly with the rest of the band. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Liam who is staring openly at Zayn, mouth dropped open slightly. Louis giggles lightly into his palm, smile growing as Liam whips his head around and spots him, a red flush immediately blooming on his cheeks and creeping down his neck. He is cute, Louis will give him that.

Walking over, he gestures to where Zayn and the others are congregating. “You know, he’s had the most insane crush on you for the past few years. Seriously it's embarrassing, like kiss his posters of you kinda stuff. Truly awful,” Louis says, eyes exaggeratedly wide. “You should go talk to him, really, or I don't think I would ever hear the end of it.

With that, Louis winks and places a gentle hand on his bare shoulder (do rockstars just walk around half-naked all of the time?) and pushes him forward. The following sequence of events pan out like a movie and Louis could cry, he really could. Liam staggers forward like a cute little deer and trips over absolutely  _ nothing _ , the little clutz, bumping into Zayn and sending them both stumbling around while they grip on to each other. The way their faces light up almost simultaneously and then instantly turn pink as they stutter out introductions is so ridiculously cute that it could only happen to Zayn.

Leaning against a wall, watching them with a soft smile on his face, he doesn’t notice Harry until he clears his throat beside him and he almost jumps out of his skin. Whipping around to face him, he sees him leaning against the door frame that he had been standing in before, head tilted to the side thoughtfully. 

“Wanna go back to my dressing room? We still have time to ah,” he chuckles lowly, eyes darkening. “Get acquainted.”

Heat rises to Louis’ face again as he nods rapidly, walking towards the other man and out of the room with only a glance over his shoulder to look at Zayn and Liam who are currently huddled together, speaking in low voices and positively beaming.  Walking into the hallway, Harry throws a heavy arm over Louis’ shoulder, pulling him tightly into his side. As Louis squeaks in surprise, Harry laughs loudly, arm dropping around his waist to squeeze his side. 

“Why so skittish, love?” he asks, breath tickling Louis’ ear. “Just gonna have a bit of fun is all, but if there’s anything you don’t like, tell me and I’ll stop, yeah? Promise it’ll all be fun.” 

And then they’re standing in the doorway of his dressing room, Harry gently tugging Louis inside before shutting the door and pressing him up against it, hot mouth suddenly on his. Gasping in response, Louis lifts his arms to drape over Harry’s broad shoulders, fingertips reaching for his hair and threading through it.

Still slick with sweat, Harry pushes up against Louis, slotting a muscled thigh in between Louis’ own, grinding down against his hips. Louis’ head is spinning at the pace of which everything is happening, brain fuzzy with how quickly arousal hits him. Whimpering, he grinds down on Harry’s thigh, feeling his hardening cock rub against his own, only encouraging him to rut harder.

“Fuck,” he feels more than hears Harry groan as he attacks his neck.

“Harry,” Louis whines in response, scrambling to hold on.

His fingers slip down the man’s sweat-slick back, the other impossibly tangled in his long hair as he whimpers and grinds down helplessly. On one particularly sharp graze of Harry’s teeth against his pulse point, Louis hisses and his fingers tremble. Harry immediately pulls back, eyes wide and searching, so earnest and worried as he reaches for Louis’ face.

“You okay, little one? I didn’t hurt you did I?” he asks worriedly.

Louis' face heats up even more, arousal simmering in his gut as he shakes his head shyly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He grinds down on Harry’s thigh again, releasing his lip, now red and slick with spit to let out a soft moan, reaching for Harry's cheeks to pull him back in.

“‘M okay,” he says after a moment of kissing, eyes looking to the side shyly. He’s so embarrassed but so so turned on it hurts. “I liked it,” he says in a whisper.

Harry groans in response, burying his head into the boy’s neck as he bites playfully, kissing over it as Louis yelps.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, love bug,” he says, voice so scratchy and so deep where he presses his words against Louis’ warm skin.

It makes goosebumps rise across Louis’ arms and the fire in his stomach flare up, makes his hands tremble and makes his cock throb in his jeans.

Pulling back, Harry looks down at him, wrapping his arms around his thighs and lifting him up swiftly, reveling in the gasp it pulls from the other boy as he scrambles for purchase on his shoulders.

Walking towards the small couch placed against the opposite wall and dropping Louis on it softly, he looks at the boy confusedly. 

“Why are you still wearing a shirt? I will admit it’s lovely and I do look quite charming on it, but it just won't do. Should be illegal for boys like you to  _ not _ be naked all the time,” he groans, walking to the bag that he had been digging through earlier. 

As Louis quickly shucks off the skin-tight green tee, Harry ruffles through his bag, straightening back up with an  _ aha _ and a little baggie in his hand. He shakes it triumphantly as he comes back around to sit by Louis.

“Want some?” he asks, opening the bag and peering into it. 

Louis’ eyes widen. That can’t be... No one offers drugs that nonchalantly, right?  _ Right? _

Sitting up and leaning over to peek into the bag, Louis' breath stutters as he catches a glimpse of the white powder inside.

“Um, what is it?” he squeaks.

Harry’s head shoots up to him. Was he serious?

“Snow, babe, what else? If you don’t wanna take it, you don’t have to, but I’m gonna. It makes the experience so fuckin’ wicked,” he replies, eyeing Louis cautiously.

“I’ve never um,” Louis starts, embarrassed. “The most I’ve ever done is smoke pot, but I think I want to try?” he says, voice raising into question at the end.

Fuck, he’s the sweetest boy Harry has ever met. He leans over and kisses him hard, unable to keep his hands to himself when Louis is just sitting there all small and pretty and delicate. Something about getting to be the one to corrupt the lovely boy in front of him makes his head dizzy with want, makes him reach out to cup him through his jeans. 

Pulling back, he morphs his mouth into a smirk before fiddling with the plastic baggie again. 

“Okay, it kicks in pretty fast, so do you wanna go first, or me?” he says. Pondering a moment longer, he then says, “Actually, I wanna take it off of you. Is that okay love bug?”

And the way he looks at Louis leaves him breathless, so he just nods wordlessly, fire in his belly growing with every word coming out of the man’s mouth.

“I think I know how to do it, I mean you just,” Louis gestures with his hands nervously. “Snort it, right?” 

Harry nods, soft lips still set in a smile, eyes dark with arousal and something else Louis can’t determine. It makes him squirm.

“But I want you to go first,” he continues. “How do you want me?” 

At that, Harry groans quietly, shutting his eyes briefly against the thoughts that immediately flood his brain.

“Just lay down on your back for now, wanna get a look at that pretty little tummy,” he replies through gritted teeth.

Flushing, Louis shifts his body down and Harry stares in wonder at how obedient the boy is. Once he’s situated, Louis pokes at Harry’s thigh, cheeks rosy and eyes already half-lidded. Harry leans over to give him a quick kiss on the lips, immediately dipping his tongue in and nipping at his lower lip before pulling back.  Kissing down the boy’s stomach slowly, he makes his way down to the skin between his belly button and where his jeans begin. He pulls away only to shake out some of the powder onto his stomach, expertly cleaning it up into a straight line with a skilled finger before looking back up at the boy.

“Still okay?” he asks gently.

Louis nods in response, pushing his fingers through Harry’s long hair, holding it off his face. With that, Harry ducks down and sniffs a line from Louis’ belly button down to his happy trail, shuddering once he’s done and licking up the remnants of the powder. He smiles dopily at the boy above him before biting a bruise above his waistband.

“Your turn, babe,” he says, patting Louis on the leg. “I’ll take another line after you and then we can have some real fun, yeah? Sound good?” he purrs.

Louis nods again, squeaking out an  _ okay _ before scooting up, eyes darting around the room. Was he really about to do this? Was he going to snort coke half-dressed in a room with Harry Styles? He begins to ponder every decision that has led him to this moment, sending a prayer up to God thanking him, eyes stuck to the ceiling. (Should he be thanking God for having the opportunity to snort cocaine with a gay rockstar? Probably not, but oh well.)

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by Harry speaking up.

“Do you wanna do it off of me, baby?” he asks, voice washing over Louis like the waves that one summer when Zayn taught him how to surf.

“Please,” he croaks out in reply, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Okay, no problem, what about my chest, yeah? Is that good for you, angel?”

Louis nods as Harry lays back and hands him the baggie.

“There should be enough for five more lines in there, so be careful when you pour it, okay? Don’t want you to do too much either, ‘specially if it’s your first time, love bug,” Harry says, high clearly beginning to kick in as he brushes the hair off of Louis’ forehead.

Louis nods, huffing when he fumbles with the bag before shifting forward and straddling Harry’s hips, leaning over his chest. Immediately, Harry’s hands fall to grasp at his hips and he squeezes, setting a flock of butterflies loose in Louis’ belly. As he bites his lip in concentration, Louis shakes the bag a little, sending a flurry of white powder cascading onto Harry’s smooth and glistening chest, He swallows sharply and shakes out some more, hands trembling with nerves.

Setting the bag on the floor by the couch, he sits up, eyes searching out Harry’s.  “I just… Snort it?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah, just go for it,” Harry shrugs delicately in reply.

Breathing out harshly through his nose, he leans forward until he’s level with the strip of powder between Harry’s pecs. Okay. He’s actually going to do this. Deciding to just go for it, he tips his head up and presses a finger to one of his nostrils, dragging the other one flush against Harry’s chest, inhaling deeply. Sitting back up, he swipes underneath his nose with the back of his hand.

He looks back down at the man below him, reveling in the sight of his half-lidded eyes and messy hair, his eyes being immediately drawn to the slight line of powder still lingering on his damp skin. Leaning down again, Louis licks it in a clean stripe from Harry’s top abs to his collarbone, continuing to kiss the space there leisurely, Harry’s hands on his hips a grounding weight.

Wriggling around, he flushes under the intensity of Harry’s gaze.

“Hi,” he says, giggling with nerves.

“Hi yourself,” Harry says back, hands dipping low into the back of Louis’ jeans. 

Louis’ cheeks heat up and he accidentally wriggles in Harry’s lap on instinct, brushing their hardened cocks together. He pauses as they both let out breathy moans, his head coming to rest in the crook of Harry’s neck as he begins to grind down with purpose, the glide made easier with Harry’s big hands pushing and pulling on his ass, setting a pace for him. 

Sitting up with red cheeks and glassy eyes, Louis asks, “Did you wanna take another line?”

His question cuts off into a breathy moan as Harry’s hands come around to his front to unbutton his jeans and slip a hand inside, rubbing Louis lightly over his boxers.

“Yeah, I wanted to. Wanna sniff it off you again,” Harry murmurs in reply, palming at Louis’ cock with purpose, now leaning up to get a mouth on his chest. “Please.”

Louis nods, stuttering out a breath as he quickly crawls off Harry’s lap and over his legs to drape himself over the opposite arm of the couch. His hands immediately go to his zipper, unzipping them the rest of the way and yanking them down, the tight fabric getting caught on his hips when he tugs.  Harry, still sat at the opposite end of the couch, grins and leans over slowly, allowing his fingertips to drag and tease the insides of the smaller boy’s thighs, reveling in the way they twitch slightly with nerves.

“Allow me,” he says lowly, leaning up on his knees from his place between Louis’ parted legs.

Louis goes lax at his words and Harry marvels again at how  _ submissive _ he is. Softly, he dips his fingertips into the waistband and pulls gently as Louis wriggles, shimmying out of the jeans. The way they looked painted on at the ass and hips, it’s a wonder they’re budging at all. As Harry gets them down to his thighs, enough to where he can see Louis’ milky white skin below where his boxers end, he leans forward and presses kisses against the goosebump-covered skin, slowly pulling them the rest of the way off.  Scooting back, he slips off Louis’ shoes and kisses his calves above where his socks end. Resting his hands on the insides of his thighs, he pushes them apart slowly, resting in between them again as he reaches for the baggie discarded on the floor.

“That’s better, right?” he asks, voice silky and smooth. “Better to feel me like this, isn’t it, little one?”

And Louis hates people mocking his height and pointing it out, he really does, but Harry could call him ‘little one’ every moment for the rest of his life and the thought of being bothered by it wouldn’t even cross his mind.

He breathes out a soft  _ yeah _ in response, stilling his jittery body as Harry pulls on the waistband of his underwear and yanks it down a few inches, enough to see the beginnings of Louis’ dark hair. Only then does he open up the baggie and shake it onto his pale skin, starting right where his tan ends and all the way up to where Louis’ stomach pudges out slightly.  Then, swiftly, he sniffs the line and licks up the remnants, groaning as he tastes the sweat and saltiness of  _ Louis _ under the drug. His first line already kicking in enough to make him feel blissed out, he stays at Louis’ bottom half, rubbing at his hardness and kissing and licking and sucking sucking  _ sucking _ at his skin, littering the boy with dark pinks and purples.

All the time, Louis squirms, running his fingers through the man’s hair and grinding his hips up subtly towards his face. His high is slowly kicking in and he just feels so  _ good _ . And he needs Harry’s mouth right now.

“Harry,” he groans out weakly, pulling on his hair.

Harry’s head pops up immediately, bright green eyes framed by his gorgeous curls, searching Louis’ face intently for a moment before he calms and morphs his too-pink mouth into a gentle smile.

“Yeah, love?” he asks softly, resting his cheek on Louis’ thigh and gazing up at him sweetly.

He’s not dumb, he knows what’s happening. He can see it in the way Louis has begun to tremble, the way a thin sheen of sweat has come to rest over his skin, now covered in goosebumps, by the way his bright blue eyes are taken up largely by his pupil, leaving only a small ring of color around the edges. 

All of this and he still knows that it’s barely begun. He smiles at the thought of getting to be the one that Louis rides his first high with, feels giddy with the thought of being able to bring him to  _ that _ level of ecstasy.

Louis whines quietly, arms reaching for Harry’s shoulders to tug him up and Harry goes easily, lets Louis control the pace for now. Leaning over him, he watches the way Louis’ eyes follow his every moment, darting up and down his entire body, nerves on edge. Leaning forward, Harry kisses Louis. Hair tickling the side of his face as he sighs with relief, body sinking into the mediocre-ly comfortable couch beneath him, Louis feels like this is all he needs to live for the rest of his life.

Reaching for Harry’s hand, Louis pushes it down the front of his torso until it reaches his briefs, pushing deeper until Harry’s hand is wrapped around his shaft and they gasp into each other’s mouths. Leaning forward, Louis does the same, a small hand reaching out to cup Harry through his briefs, gasping when he gets a hand around him. Fuck, he’s big. 

Louis whines, back arching and legs coming to wrap around Harry when he thumbs at his slit, sending precome blurting out of the head.

“ _ Lou _ ,” Harry says, pulling back to pant into Louis’ shoulder. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet.”

Louis whines again, eyes squeezing shut as his body trembles. Harry’s hand speeds up, tightening his grip as he jerks Louis off quickly, reveling in the responsiveness of the boy beneath him. Too lost in his own pleasure, Louis’ hand lays slack on Harry’s hardened cock, only squeezing every once in a while.

“Harry,” he grits out, eyes opening to lock his blown pupils with the other man’s. “I need, I just need-”

Harry cuts him off, gently shushing him as he twists his hand sharply, pulling another gasp from the boy.

“I know baby, and I’ve got you. If there’s anything else you need or want me to do, just tell me, okay? This is all about you sweetheart,” he replies, gently taking Louis’ hand off his crotch and placing it above his head. “Yeah, like that babe, let me take care of you, okay? Can you put your other hand up there too for me?”

As he obeys, Harry kisses him in thanks before moving his mouth to Louis’ chest, lips fitting around his nipple as he sucks hard. Louis’ body locks up in response, mouth open in a quiet shout as he stills completely, another load of precome splurting onto his stomach.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he chants as his body begins responding again, trembling intensely, dark eyes blinking slowly with fresh tears in them.

“Shh, petal, I’ve got you,” Harry shushes against his chest.

Switching to his other nipple, Harry gives it the same treatment, sucking and biting over it gently, tongue soothing over it as an afterthought. Kissing his way back to Louis' neck, he knocks his forehead gently with the other boy’s. 

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like, okay?” Harry says, lips ghosting over Louis’.

Louis nods rapidly, blown pupils locked on Harry’s lips and Harry sighs, leaning in to kiss him, letting Louis deepen it as he desires. Harry doesn’t know if Louis is even really listening to him, but he supposes it’s the best response he can receive given the circumstances.

Pulling back, Harry revels in the whine Louis lets out and leans forward to kiss him once more before leaning back. Tightening his grip around Louis’ cock, he reaches his other hand up to wrap around his neck, gently at first. When Louis’ eyes widen in response and he lets out a small whine, he tightens his grip, watching the way his eyelashes flutter angelically. Leaning down, Harry lightens his pressure slightly and fixes his mouth around his nipple again, biting and sucking, Louis’ body jerking below him.

“Harry  _ please _ ,” Louis sobs. “Please please, please. I need to- I’m gonna cum.”

Harry looks up at him through his lashes, sees the way his cheeks are sticky with sweat and tears, the way his dark eyes are so so wide, can see how red his lips are, spit-slick and bitten raw.

He looks utterly  _ fucked _ .

“Cum for me baby, I’ve got you,” Harry says, momentarily tightening his grip around his neck.

Then he scoots down the couch and takes the head of Louis’ cock into his mouth. Sucking tightly, Louis comes, his entire body shaking with the force of it, a chorus of  _ Harry Harry Harry' _ s leaving his mouth. He feels like he’s on fire, encompassed in so much tight wet heat and pure bliss that leaves him in some kind of otherworldly realm, gasping for breath. 

*

When he comes to, maybe minutes later, he feels like he’s woken out of a deep sleep and immediately reaches out for Harry. Harry. Who is fully dressed. Looking down at Louis with a bag over his shoulder and a smile on his face. What. The Fuck.


	2. II

“Um.”

Harry’s grin widens impossibly as Louis scrambles to sit up, sending a quick prayer of thanks to whoever made sure someone put his boxers back on him.

“How’re you feeling, love bug? You blacked out for a bit there; don’t worry, I kept an eye on you, you seemed to be enjoying yourself,” Harry says.

And yup, Louis is about to die of embarrassment. Is that  _ normal _ ? Blacking out after getting a handjob from Harry Styles? Or was it the cocaine? Hm. Much to think about here.

“Um,” he repeats, slowly standing up from the couch, wincing as his clammy skin sticks to the faux leather.

Harry reaches a hand down to him, straightening up and pulling him up with him, hands immediately dropping to Louis’ hips to steady him, eyes raking over his body to make sure he’s okay.

“You were out for about half an hour, are you feeling quite alright?” Harry asks. “Your high should’ve worn off by now, but if it’s not, we’ll get you taken care of, yeah?”

Louis shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight.  “No. I’m- I’m okay. Just a bit confused ‘s all,” he says, tilting his head forward to rest his forehead against the taller man’s chest. “Um. Why are you wearing clothes?”

Harry chuckles lightly at that.  “Eager, are we, angel?” he asks, chest rumbling against where Louis is currently resting. He rubs his big hand up and down his back smoothly, a grounding weight, as his other one stays molded to his hip. “We’re leaving in ten, baby. Had to get all ready to go. People to do, things to see, all that.”

Louis pulls back at that, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down into a slight pout.

“Already?” he asks, looking up from his eyelashes.

Harry internally groans, cock already twitching in his jeans with interest again as Louis looks up to him all doe-eyed and earnest, so small and begging Harry to get his hands back on him.

“Gotta get on the road, we have quite a ways to go for our next show,” he replies sweetly, brushing the messy fringe off of Louis’ forehead.

“But how am I gonna see you again?” Louis asks, folding in on himself. “You barely even got to touch me.”

Harry coos gently at the boy in front of him, hands folded in front of his lap delicately, feet pointed inwards as he looks down with the prettiest flush on his face.

“Maybe if you wanted to join us, we could arrange something,” Harry suggests casually, stepping back and making his way around the dressing room, stuffing random objects he missed into the same brown duffel from before.

Louis takes a small step back, his breath knocked out of him as he ponders what Harry had just said. Was he joking?

“Are you pulling my leg?” he asks, breathless. “Because if you are, it’s not nice to tease infatuated boys like me,” he states sternly, pointing his finger at Harry as he narrows his eyes.

“Course not, why would I do that?” he asks genuinely, peeking over his shoulder at the boy.

“Um,” Louis starts, beginning to pull on his clothes jerkily.

(He pointedly ignores how Harry had folded them and placed them on the arm of the couch with what is quite obviously his own necklace pooled neatly on top. Stupid way too sweet rockstar.)

He feels like he’s being poked fun of and he kind of wants to get out of here  _ now _ , stuck between rushing out and running back into Harry’s arms. Stupid celebrity crush, stupid teenage hormones, damn it all.

“Maybe you get off on the sight of breaking hearts of boys all over the world. I don’t know how stardom works, you’re all pretty weird, don’t you know?”

Harry barks out a laugh at that, covering his mouth in a rare moment of insecurity. Louis’ eyes shoot up from where he’s stuffing his head through his t-shirt, mouth morphing into a gentle smile as he tilts his head down, letting his fringe fall down and cover his face.

Wow. He did that. He made Harry Styles laugh, a real one too, sharp and dorky and loud. He tries not to gloat, but it may be his greatest accomplishment to date.

“Hm,” Harry hums in response. “No one’s ever quite said that to my face, but I have heard a rumor or two,” he says cheekily, making his way back to Louis.

He kneels in front of the boy as he finishes slipping his shoes on, fingers reaching out to tie up the laces.

“I am quite serious though, love. As long as you don’t have anything tying you here for the next few months. You may have to call your job, fake an accident, or summat. It  _ could _ be fun actually,” Harry says thoughtfully, tightening the yellowed laces of Louis’ shoes.

“Well I  _ would  _ have to call my mom,” Louis says after he ponders it for a moment. “And what about Zayn, what would he do? Surely he can’t come as well?”

Harry looks up at him from his place between his parted legs, ring-adorned hands now resting on the boy’s jean-clad knees.

“Your mom?” he asks, eyebrows scrunched together where they’re visible through his hair. “Please don’t tell me..” he trails off, eyes big.

Louis shifts nervously under his gaze, fingers fiddling with the chain and cross in his hand. Did he not mention his age before? Oops. But on the other hand, it shouldn’t matter, though. Right?  _ Right? _ Okay, the age of consent  _ is  _ eighteen, but plenty of rockstars have fucked birds  _ years _ younger than him, so how bad could it really be?

Harry sighs loudly, squeezing Louis’ legs where they’re resting beneath his hands gently. “How old are you, love?” he asks gently. “I won’t be mad, promise. Well, maybe a bit disappointed, sure, but it would’ve been an honest mistake.”

Louis fidgets more, tiny fists nervously twisting the necklace in his hand.

“Um,” he begins, looking away from the man currently situated between his legs. 

His eyes snap back to Harry’s as the man places a gentle hand on his jaw. “Love bug,” he says softly yet firmly.

Louis’ insides squirm and he closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and leaning into Harry’s warm hand.

“Seventeen,” he murmurs, eyes still shut, still so so scared of what Harry’s reaction will be.

He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, waiting for some kind of reaction. When all he hears is a gentle sigh, he squints his eyes open, releasing the breath that he had been holding. Harry is still sitting there, balancing on the tips of his feet, but now his head is slung down, hair framing his face from view.  Louis wants to move it, wants to see his face and read his eyes. He just wants to know if he’s mad at him. But he doesn’t really know where he stands right now, so he sits still, eyes raking over the sight of Harry’s hand still resting on his knee, revels in the way it wraps around it almost entirely.

He scolds himself when he catches his thoughts drifting away to much more dangerous territory. He rubs the cross in his hand across his thumb instead, trying to calm his breathing.

“Harry,” he starts tentatively, not knowing what else to say.

And he doesn’t have to say more, because Harry tilts his head up slowly, hair sliding out of his face as he angles to face Louis. Louis searches his face quickly, eyes assessing the damage.

Results: inconclusive.

Louis leans forward slightly, eyebrows furrowing as he takes a closer look. Raking his eyes across Harry’s face as he sits still, waiting patiently, Louis bites his bottom lip. The man's lips are now upturned slightly into a small smile, dimpled cheek poking out the slightest bit. Louis furrows his eyebrows impossibly more in suspicion. His eyes trail to lock with Harry’s, who has an eyebrow quirked up, green eyes shining but so obviously churning with something deeper right below the surface.

Louis stares intently, trying to  _ dig deeper _ , but his eyes won’t budge, remaining as unhelpful as ever. He is beginning to get genuinely frustrated and he takes Harry’s cheeks into his hands suddenly, pulling him close so their noses are touching, eyes squinting as he searches intensely.

Harry barks out a laugh and Louis startles slightly, still staring at his eyes that are now impossibly closer, squinted in amusement. The storms have cleared and his eyes shine bright green now. Louis huffs in frustration and pulls back, Harry’s hand finally dropping from his face and onto his other knee.

“So?” Louis says, slightly annoyed now.

Harry dials down his beam. 

“Told you I wouldn’t be mad, love bug,” he says much too gently. “I wish I had known because then I wouldn’t have done any of that, but that’s entirely on me, I should’ve checked with you beforehand. I’m sorry. Are  _ you _ okay? I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

Louis shakes his head, stunned.

“No, no, I’m okay, I’m good,” he responds, grasping the necklace in his hand tightly. “‘M sorry, I should’ve said before, but I know people like you have done worse with younger, and I kind of just assumed. I mean I  _ wanted _ to..” he trails off. "I didn't know you guys actually cared about that sort of thing."

Harry rolls his eyes playfully at ‘people like you’, before replying. “Still,” he says, shooting Louis a very pointed look. “I feel as though I’ve taken advantage. What they’re doing isn’t okay either, but most people find it acceptable because they’re still  _ straight _ . We have to be especially careful because, well,” he motions between them with raised eyebrows. “You know what they think of men like us already, wouldn’t want to give those wankers anything to prove their point, now would we?”

Louis blinks, mouth agape. Now that. That  _ does  _ make sense actually. Not that he would’ve thought of Harry as some kind of pervert anyway, but still. 

“Right,” he replies slowly, unsure of what to do now. “Well, I should probably go find Zayn now, right? Especially since you guys are leaving soon? I’d hate to bug you guys into staying too late.”

As he makes his way to the dressing room door, necklace still held firmly in his hand, he’s stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going, love bug? Do you not still want to go with us?” Harry questions.

Louis turns around slowly, disbelief written across his face.  _ What? _

“Did I somehow just misinterpret that entire speech you just gave me or…” he trails off, panic slowly creeping up his chest.

“ _ What? _ No. No! It’s not like  _ that _ , you can still come with us if you want to, we just can’t do anything together until you’re legal. Which, by the way,” he huffs exasperatedly, running a hand through his shiny hair. He must’ve showered while Louis was asleep, skin now soft and warm, clean of any trace of sweat from the show. “You would already be legal where I come from, but we’re not in Britain, are we? Or else you would have already been completely wrecked.”

Louis’ face heats up with the straightforwardness of it all. Is he missing the whole point here?

“If you keep talking to me like that, I may as well just head home right now,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “No way I’ll last ‘til December when you go running your mouth like  _ that _ .”

At that, Harry beams, smile splitting up his face.

“Is that a yes then?” he asks excitedly.

“I still have to ask the parents, but yes, rockstar, it’s a yes.”

Harry whoops in excitement, lifting up Louis and spinning him around as he laughs along manically, kicking his feet and squealing at him to ‘ _ let me down right this moment, Harry, or I swear to fuck I will change my mind!’ _

Harry lets him down with one last twirl, immediately pushing him out of the door as soon as he’s back on his feet, hands placed firmly on his hips to keep him steady as he walks out his dizziness. 

“Gotta go get Zayn,” he says as he wobbles down the hall, the floor spinning. “When do you have to be at the next concert hall? ‘Cus our stuff is still at the hotel and we gotta call our parents. Wait, I only have one change of clothes, what the fuck am I gonna do about that? Oh God, this is insane, am I really about to run away with my best friend and a rockstar? Who am I?,” Louis rambles off, nerves getting the best of him as they approach the band’s dressing room.

Harry squeezes where his hands are still resting on Louis’ hips, steering him towards the wall next to the door, spinning him around to face him as his hands travel down Louis’ arms, capturing his smaller hands in his.

“Love bug,” he breathes, interlocking their fingers, necklace captured between their warm palms. “The next show isn’t for a few days and it’s not  _ too _ far, driving should take less than a full day, so if you need to go home first and pack a bag, that’s alright. We can pick you up from there if you need, yeah? Or if you don’t want to, we can just share what I’ve brought. Whatever you need, really. Once we get in there, we can talk to Zayn too and see what he thinks and then make a plan. And then  _ we _ ,” he gestures between the two of them, eyes boring into Louis’. “Can make our own plan. I know I’ll bloody need it if I’ll be living with you for the next few months, you little menace.”

Louis’ face burns as a blush rises to his cheeks and he looks down bashfully at their intertwined hands. Seeing their skin pressed flush against each other sends something warm into his tummy, sends some kind of primal feeling thrumming through his veins.

“Yeah,” he agrees softly, eyes still looking down. “Boundaries and rules ‘nd stuff.”

Harry nods, squeezing his hands once.

“That’s right, love bug. And you’ll obey them, won’t you? Be nice and good for me while we wait?”

Louis makes a small noise in the back of his throat, eyes darting back down while he hunches his shoulders. Harry smiles smugly at his response, how submissive he can be.

“Gotta start with you not being allowed to say stuff like that to me,” Louis says quietly, leaning his head against Harry’s chest, “Don’t think ‘s appropriate, rockstar.”

At that, Harry chuckles slightly, pulling back and separating their hands, taking his necklace with him. As he does so, Louis looks up at him, eyes so wide and so bright, the picture-perfect example of innocence. Harry wants to groan, wants to do much worse than that. How is he going to survive the next few months with Louis looking like _ that _ ? Being in his space all the time just being so small and beautiful. 

It’s going to be torture.

Opening up his palm, Harry straightens out the necklace, pulling it over Louis’ head before tucking it into his shirt.

“There,” he says. “We can promise on that to follow our rules this summer, and I can promise to do whatever I want with you after that. Okay?”

Louis’ eyelashes flutter angelically in response, fiddling with the cool metal dangling above his chest.

“Okay,” he says softly.

“Okay,” Harry repeats, smiling. “Now let’s go get Liam and Zayn, Liam is going to be absolutely  _ devastated _ when he hears about the age thing, but I promise you he won’t make a big fuss over it. I pride myself very much with my  morally virtuous  band members, actually,” he says, puffing his chest out with pride.

He looks fucking ridiculous as Louis rolls his eyes, small giggles escaping his lips. He wants to kiss him so bad it hurts.

He shoves at his chest gently instead, scoffing and pushing past him and into the room. If he smiles because of him when his back is turned, Harry doesn’t need to know.

**

Telling Liam and Zayn goes much better than Louis and Harry thought, given the fact that they had been talking for the past hour and already discussed it, along with their favorite superheroes and colors... Or something.

“Some of us can manage to keep it in our pants, H,” Liam says, shooting them a pointed look.

Louis scoffs, ignoring the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. He rolls his eyes to divert from his obviously bashful state.

“How do you know we didn’t sit in there and swap secrets and..” he trails off, struggling to find another age-appropriate activity. 

Harry coughs into his fist, dimpled cheek giving him away.

“And braid each other’s hair,” Louis finishes.

Harry lets out another one of those earth-shatteringly adorable laughs while Louis shoves his side and pretends not to smile into his shoulder.

“Louis, I like you, I really do,” Liam says. “But you’ve known H for an hour  _ tops _ and I’ve known him for ten years. I think I win here. No offense.”

“Also your fly is down,” Zayn offers, biting down on a Twizzler.

“And there’s some inconspicuous white powder on your top lip,” Mitch pipes in from where he’s sat slumped against a wall, quietly playing his guitar.

Louis gasps, struggling to reach for his zipper and wipe underneath his nose simultaneously as the boys around him explode in laughter.

Harry leans over, whispering, “They’re just taking the piss, love. You’ve proved their point now, though.”

Louis grumbles in response, narrowing his eyes as he fixes each man with the deadliest glare he can manage, lifting his hands to showcase the two middle fingers he is currently holding up.

“Whatever. Dickheads.”

As their chuckles die down, Harry perks up.

“Also!” he exclaims brightly. “I’ve invited Louis to be our little roadie for the rest of this leg of tour, and Zayn, you’re welcome to come along too, of course.”

The dressing room is blanketed in heavy silence for a moment before chaos ensues, Zayn screaming in disbelief, shooting up from the couch with Liam, both of them turning to each other and gripping the other’s shoulders tightly. Mitch settles with a simple _ ‘what.’ _ , pausing his strumming as his eyes dart between the pairs of boys, confusion written across his face.

“H,” he begins slowly, American accent a slow drawl, quiet but commanding. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean you just met the boy.”

Harry and Louis exchange a look. He did have a point, but the spontaneity of it all made it that much more appealing. 

“No offense, I’m sure you’re a cool enough dude,” Mitch tacks on, voice casual enough that Louis doesn’t feel insulted.

“None taken, man,” Louis says, shrugging.

“Mitch, mate, buddy, pal, my favorite guitarist in the world,” Harry says sweetly, batting his eyelashes at a bored-looking Mitch. “I love you, I really do, but I don't think you’re one to talk. We all remember Sarah, don’t we? Liam?” Harry asks pointedly, shooting a smirk towards the drummer.

Louis raises an eyebrow, eyes darting between the three of them, definitely not missing the bashful look on Mitch’s face. It’s… surprising to say the least. He looks towards Zayn to see if he’s just as lost as he is, and is comforted by the blatant confusion on his face, both of them shrugging at the same time as if to say  _ ‘what would I know?’ _ .

Louis nudges Harry in the side, making a confused expression as he tilts his head slightly in silent question. His face instantly lights up and he leans into Louis with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Sarah is his girlfriend,” he whispers, warm breath spreading over Louis' neck. “Not that he’ll admit it, but she was one of our roadies a couple of tours back and they still keep in touch. She comes to our shows every once in a while, I’ll make sure to introduce you two.”

Louis hums in agreement, his mind already wandering. Was that normal, having a fan you stick to? Does  _ Harry _ have one? 

He takes a shallow breath.

Would Louis be his?

His breath hitches slightly at the thought before he scolds himself. Of course he wouldn’t be. Louis is Louis and Harry is, well,  _ Harry _ . He tunes back in to the conversation happening around him, stuffing his thoughts deep down.

Was he really moping right now? After he was invited to join Harry Styles on tour? Jesus, he needs to get a grip.

Harry looks over at him, eyes raking over his face, soft in concern and question. Louis smiles at him, shaking his head gently in a silent reply.  His heart squeezes gently in his chest and he has to look away, still able to feel Harry’s gaze fixated on the side of his face.

“Well we should be going, guys,” Louis announces when there’s a lull in the conversation. “Z and I have to get back to our hotel and get some beauty sleep before our big day of driving tomorrow, right Zaynie?”

When Zayn shoots him a look and goes back to exchanging puppy eyes with Liam, Louis sighs, rolling his eyes. Always so dramatic, that one.

“C’mon man, we’ll see him tomorrow or the day after, I’m sure you’ll be able to manage.  _ Especially  _ considering you’re about to spend the entire summer traveling the continental U.S. with him. Chop chop.”

And then he turns back to Harry, still able to feel his mildly creepy gaze on him.

“Let’s go back to your dressing room real quick, I’ll give you my address and number, ‘kay?” Louis says. “God knows those lovebirds will need the time to say goodbye to each other. It’s a bit disgusting, isn’t it?”

Harry barks out a laugh at that, eyes soft as he shakes his head and walks out of the room, Louis by his side.

“Innit,” he agrees.

Reaching his dressing room he motions for Louis to go in.

“Age before beauty,” Louis retorts, face morphed into the picture-perfect image of innocence.

Harry groans to hide how he  _ really _ feels when Louis gets like that -- all bashful and doe-eyed -- and grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like  _ ‘what happened to respect your elders?’ _ .

Stepping into the room, Harry goes to grab a paper and pen for Louis while the other boy sits back on the leather couch, shifting uncomfortably at the thought of what had happened on this couch not too long ago. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by a brown leather-bound journal being thrust in front of his face with a pencil. He blushes slightly as he grabs them out of Harry’s hand, fingers brushing.

Flipping to the very back of the journal, he’s surprised (also kind of not -- this  _ is _ Harry Styles after all) to see an assortment of different handwritings, some names and phone numbers, some jokes, some little doodles, some addresses in there too. He tries to keep his face neutral, reminds himself that even though the experience is life-changing for him, this is what people like Harry  _ do _ . And that this time next year, he would be just another pencil scratch in this journal. And maybe someone else would read Louis’ name and address and be filled with envy too.

It doesn’t make him feel better.

As he scribbles down his home phone and address (and full name for good measure), Harry shifts above him, eyes boring into the top of Louis’ head.

As Louis hands over the journal and pencil, he avoids Harry’s piercing eyes, standing up and dusting imaginary dirt off of his jeans instead. With his eyes averted, he doesn’t notice Harry biting his lip, eyebrows screwed together in intimidating confusion.

“Think Zayn and I should get going,” Louis says.

It’s not what he wants to say, not close at all.

Harry shakes his head slightly, clears his throat and takes a slight step back. “‘Course, Louis,” he says.

It’s not what he wants to say either.

With that, they both walk back to the other dressing room, silence heavy around them. Louis wants to break it so bad, is the thing. He  _ does _ , but he’s just too inside his head, so he keeps his mouth shut instead.

Stepping back into the room, the first things he notices are Zayn and Liam. Zayn and Liam who are currently sitting on the couch, Zayn in Liam’s lap, tongues down each other’s throats. It surprises him enough that a loud laugh bursts out of him, hand immediately coming to cover his mouth, eyes wide. It startles the other two boys enough that Zayn jumps, head whipping around to look at the two that entered the room. He has the decency to look bashful, at least, and Louis wants to punch his stupid perfect face.

“While I was gone, did you somehow magically forget about the age gap between the two of you or…” Louis trails off, mouth set in irritation and eyebrows raised in question.

“Actually they talked about it before,” Mitch says from his spot on the floor, eyes still not looking at anyone else in the room.

Louis doesn’t blame him, he wouldn’t either if he was just in a room alone with two people and they started furiously making out. He shudders at the thought.

“Is that so?” Louis says, eyes still pointedly trained on the pair in front of him. “I could live without the details, really. We should get going anyway, Z, gotta drive back home tomorrow and it’s late. Not to mention the nice rockstars here are already behind schedule, they should’ve left a while ago. Isn’t that right boys?” Louis asks, eyes flicking to each member of the band.

They all nod in agreement and Louis smirks as Zayn slides off of Liam’s lap, slipping his shoes back on before joining Louis at his side, shooting him an annoyed look.

_ ‘Sorry’ _ he mouths, wincing harshly for added effect. Zayn rolls his eyes, but he has a smile on his lips, so Louis figures he can't be too upset.

With that, they turn to leave, Louis jumping when Harry places a hand on his arm lightly. When he turns his head to peek at him over his shoulder, he looks confused.

“Wait, we’ll walk you out,” he says, turning pointedly to face his band members. They scramble to get dress completely and sling their bags over their shoulders.

“Okay,” Louis responds breathily.

Harry’s eyes dart to his lips and a flush spreads to his cheeks. He licks his lower lip, half on instinct, and revels in the way Harry’s eyebrows furrow slightly, red lips separating to let out a puff of air. Louis’ lips morph into a smirk and he turns away again, linking his arm with Zayn’s.

“Show the way, rockstar,” he says flirtatiously, peeking an eye over his shoulder to look at Harry again.

“Right,” Harry says, kicking into motion. “Follow me, darling.”

He then proceeds to stumble over his feet in his haste to get out of the door and down the hall, leading the boys to a back entrance. Louis giggles into his hand as he pulls Zayn along, close to his side. He ignores his complaints of not being able to walk with Liam, instead favoring to stare at Harry’s ass in his stupidly tight jeans.

“Dude, isn’t this crazy?” Louis says suddenly, cutting Zayn off where he was describing his impromptu makeout session with Liam which was just --  _ ew _ . “Like, did you think this would happen when you were thinking about the concert at the diner, or  _ at school _ ? Oh my God, this is totally insane, right? In a good way of course.” he tacks on.

When he turns his head to look at Zayn instead of Harry’s swaying hips, he’s met with a dreamy smile on his lips.

“Definitely not,” Zayn sighs, eyes drifting back to Liam.

Louis rolls his eyes and lets go of his arm, shoving him towards the other man. Zayn’s eyes light up and he immediately glues himself to Liam’s side, smile wide enough that it looks painful. Louis turns back around and skips to catch up with Harry, jumping on his back suddenly and laughing at Harry’s squeak, how he scrambles to wrap his arms around Louis’ knees.

“Hey little love,” he whispers as they approach the end of the hall.

“Hey yourself, rockstar,” Louis replies, burying his head in Harry’s neck, placing a light kiss there.

When Harry doesn’t protest, he continues, brushing his hair over the opposite shoulder so he has more access to his soft skin. He can feel the way his breath hitches when Louis bites his teeth into the skin, can feel the way his steps falter slightly; can feel the way he tilts his head to the side slightly, allowing Louis to do what he pleases.

“Be gentle, love bug,” he says, voice already deeper and gravelly with slight arousal.

It makes Louis’ breath hitch, having to bury his head into the junction of Harry’s neck again as he breathes in deeply, calming himself. As Harry pushes open the big doors to the outside, Louis can feel his muscles shift in his back and his arms. He bites him playfully again, needing to do  _ something  _ with his mouth.

“ _ Harry _ ,” he whines, voice high, shifting his body up Harry’s back slightly as the door slams behind him. “ _ Please? _ ” he asks as the sticky warm summer air hits his face and licks across his arms that are currently resting against Harry’s chest.

He can feel it when Harry sighs, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the way his chest puffs out, and then caves back in.

“You know we can’t, Lou.”

And that’s the thing -- Louis  _ does _ know, but it doesn’t make him want it any less. Regardless, he stops, just resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder and watching the older man’s side profile, lit up only by the moon and the street lamps in the loading dock area.

“Yeah,” he breathes softly, breath ghosting over Harry’s cheek. “I know.”

They walk the rest of the way around the building in silence, Louis burying his face into Harry’s neck again. All he can hear around him are three sets of footsteps (Mitch opting to go back to the bus instead) and the sounds of cicadas chirping around them. It feels nice, warm and heavy and calm just like the first night of summer should. It makes Louis' stomach warm up with contentedness, happiness blooming inside of him like a bright flower through the dark cracks of pavement.

He must doze off slightly or lose himself to his thoughts, because he startles slightly when Harry turns his head to whisper into his ear.  “Which car, love?” he asks, voice deep and syrupy and smooth.

Louis wants to fall asleep to it for the rest of his life.

“‘S the blue one,” he says, Harry shivering when his lips brush against his sensitive skin as he speaks.

And then he’s being set down onto his feet gently, Harry keeping an arm around his waist as he lets Louis lean heavily into his shoulder while he unlocks and opens the passenger door. He steps in slowly and tucks himself into the seat, pulling his feet up to rest underneath him on the leather interior. Harry bends down to buckle him in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead while he leans over him.

“Gonna let Zayn drive, that alright, sleepy?” he asks gently, running his fingers through Louis’ hair, still damp with sweat.

He’s too tired to care, leaning into the touch instead.

“That’s alright,” Louis says back, just as soft.

His eyes are closed and his face is lax, skin soft and young-looking, washed out in the pale moonlight. The way the light floods into the car makes the cut of his cheekbones look sharper, makes his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks that look infinite.

Harry wants to lay him down on a bed and cuddle him fiercely until he was sleeping soundly, soft music playing in the background. Maybe the Strawbs? Yeah, Harry decides. That would be perfect, wouldn’t it?

“Okay,” Harry whispers, even softer than before.

Louis was definitely asleep now.

He presses a kiss to his cheek and takes a step back from the car, shutting the door as gently as he can. Turning, he sees Zayn and Liam talking, Liam eyeing him with a knowing look in his eye. Wanker.

“He’s passed out already, so I think you two should get a move on,” Harry says, ignoring his friend. “We’ve gotta book it too, should’ve left a while ago now, not that it really matters anymore.”

Zayn nods, giving Liam another hug and kiss on his cheek before making his way around the car.

“I’ll catch you guys later, alright? Bye,” he says with a little wave before starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot in a combination of yellowed headlights and grey exhaust.

Liam and Harry stand there for a moment after the car disappears.

“Fuck, mate,” Harry says through a huff of laughter, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” Liam says in reply, running a hand down his tired face. “Fuck.”

They both turn away from the mostly empty parking lot and make their way back to the other side of the building, arms around each other’s shoulders. They smile slightly, too tired for anything bigger as they kick at the pebbles in their path. What a night.

It feels like the beginning of something, the start of something _more_ than their previous summers.

**

Louis wakes slowly, eyes flickering beneath his eyelids as he groans slightly, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth and tasting something like a dead animal. He feels like death, basically. Shifting, he realizes he’s still in his clothes from the night before, jeans  flush  to his hips and thighs uncomfortably, but Zayn at least had the decency to undo his button and zipper.

He rolls over in search of the other boy, clinging to him tightly when he finds his warm skin, burrowing his face into his arm.

“Lou, what do you want, man?” Zayn asks, voice still gravelly from sleep.

He peeks an eye open, eyeing the boy in front of him. He’s sitting up slightly, sketchpad balanced on his lap while he draws lightly with charcoal, fingertips already stained black.

“You’re up early,” Louis grumbles, rubbing a balled fist against his eye harshly. “And what I  _ wanted _ , you asshole, was reassurance that I’m not dying like I think I am. Feels like something died inside of me.”

“First of all, it's two in the afternoon, idiot. Second, that is not my fault. Maybe it has to do with all of the-,” Zayn wriggles his eyebrows at Louis over the glasses currently resting low on his nose. “Activity you got up to last night. I could assume that dancing around at a concert for a few hours and then fucking a certain British rockstar could do that to you, couldn’t it?”

Louis grumbles, sitting up as he stares at Zayn in all his sleepy, shirtless glory, sheet lines pressed into his skin and hair a wild mess on top of his head. He still looks impossibly hot. Louis hates him. 

“Not to mention the coke, of course,” Zayn adds, almost as an afterthought. “Who would’ve thought? My Louis, in geography class at the beginning of one day, and fucking a rockstar, high off cocaine, in the evening. It’s kinda hot if you think about it.”

Louis would squawk out a laugh and throw a pillow at him if he didn’t feel like he was on his deathbed. He launches a pillow at him halfheartedly anyway, yawning and stretching his way out of the bed, making his way to the bathroom. 

Once inside, he peels off his clothes, gasping as he sees the cross dangling in the middle of his chest.

_ Oh wow. _

How could he have forgotten about  _ that _ ?

He lifts it over his head delicately, placing it on the marble countertop in a neat line before stepping into the shower.

**

Pulling into the driveway of his average suburban home, Louis doesn’t know how to tell his mother that he was just invited to join a British rockstar on his tour for the remainder of his summer break.

He and Zayn discussed it on the way over, trying to formulate a plan that could work on both of their parents. They were essentially on opposite sides of the parental spectrum, Zayn’s parents impossibly strict and Louis’ mother practically his best friend. However,  _ their _ parents being best friends as well was a factor on their side in this case, because if one of them was allowed to do something, the other one would undoubtedly be able to as well.

So, basically, Louis had to count solely on his mom for this one.

Sighing, he grabs his overnight bag from the backseat, dragging his feet inside as Zayn trails nervously behind him. Opening the door, it’s suspiciously quiet, absent of the usual gaggle of young girls that fill up the space. Louis frowns.

“Mom?” he calls out loudly, dropping his bag at the bottom of the stairs.

“In here, sweetie!” she yells from the kitchen.

Stepping into the kitchen, he surveys the room, eyes roaming for any possible places the girls could be hiding. His frown deepens when he doesn’t hear the usual chorus of muffled giggles.

“Where are the girls?” he asks, jumping up on the counter next to where his mom is mixing something in a metal bowl.

He dips his finger in it before sucking it into his mouth. Fuck yeah, banana bread. His mom swats at him, rolling her eyes as she takes a few steps away from her son.

“They’re at the pool with the neighbors,” she says as she pours some chocolate chips into the bowl.

Louis hums in acknowledgment, banging his converse-clad feet against the cabinets beneath him.

“How was the show, boys?” she asks after a moment of silence, eyes flicking between the two teenagers.

“About that,” Louis says, chuckling nervously. “It was totally sick, absolutely insane, and um, Zayn and I got to go backstage and meet them all.”

“ _ What? _ ” his mom screams, slamming the mixing bowl on the counter next to Louis’ legs. “Louis, that's  _ amazing. _ How did it go, what was he like? Oh goodness, I’m so happy for you two, tell me  _ everything _ .”

Louis shifts nervously at the memories of the previous night. He most definitely would not be telling his mother everything.

“Well, obviously it was the best hour of my life. During the concert he um,” Louis pauses, eyes darting between his mom all big-eyed and bouncy, and Zayn who is leaning cooly against his fridge. “He kissed me.”

“ _ WHAT? _ ” 

Louis winces at the volume of his mom’s voice, flinching slightly. When he sees how big her smile is, dropped open slightly in shock, he grins wildly, looking down bashfully.

“Yeah, it was unexpected but wow, how could I complain, you know? Anyway he was really sweet -- his whole band was -- and he gave me this actually,” he goes on, untucking the necklace from his shirt. As his mom and Zayn both close in to get an eye on it, Louis continues, “And you wouldn’t believe what else mom, really. I could barely believe it myself. But, he invited Zayn and me to join him for his tour for the rest of the summer. Isn’t that  _ insane _ ? Mom you have to let me go. Please, please, please-”

“Of course you can go,” she interrupts, eyes still peering intensely at the piece of metal nestled in the palm of her hand. “You’d never forgive me otherwise, would you? Can’t have my favorite son giving me the silent treatment for the rest of his life now can I?”

Louis gasps in surprise, flinging his arm around her shoulders as he smiles deeply, cheeks straining with the force of it.

“Oh my God. Mom. Thank you, thank you, thank you. He said they’ll come by tomorrow to get us, to give us time to pack and everything.”

“Good, because I need to meet the man that my son is going to be living and traveling with for the next few months, don’t you think?” Louis’ mom pulls back to say.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies fondly, jumping off the counter and making his way to the staircase already. “Can you talk to the Maliks for me too, please? They could never say no to you. Anyway, I’m gonna start packing, wish me luck,” he shouts down from the stairs.

“Don't forget your summer reading!” she calls back from the kitchen, voice faint.

Dropping onto his bed in a crumpled heap, Louis sighs loudly, fluttering the hair resting on his forehead.

“Fuck me sideways, how is this real life?” he asks to his ceiling, sweat beginning to collect on his collarbone despite his opened window and fan currently spinning on the highest setting.

Zayn doesn’t reply (not that Louis thought he would), shuffling through Louis’ records instead,  _ aha- _ ing when he finds what he was looking for, the first notes of Harry’s first studio album ringing out.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Bet freshman you would’ve never been able to dream this one up in his craziest dreams,” he pauses when Louis raises a brow at him from over his chest. “Okay, maybe in your craziest dreams, but that’s only because you’re a Harry Styles obsessed freak.”

“Rude,” Louis huffs out, kicking his leg out at Zayn’s shoulder. “Need to start packing but I think I’d rather sit here and sleep for the next three months of summer.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, already reaching for the suitcase under Louis’ bed. 

“I’ll get you started, drama queen, but only because I know you’d make me do it anyway.”

Louis smiles down at him, all lazy lips and humid-sticky cheeks. Zayn wants to pinch him.

Instead, he spreads the suitcase open on Louis’ carpet-clad floor and begins sifting through his closet, separating into a  _ yes  _ and  _ maybe _ pile, first sticking the boy’s summer reading books in the very bottom, or else Louis would forget.

As he works, Louis drifts off, starfished on his bed, and dreams of Harry and the summer to come.

*

Waking up a couple of hours later, Louis is groggy and sore from laying flat, disoriented by the dimmed light streaming through his window, the sky now painted in shades of oranges and pinks instead of the vibrant blue from that afternoon.

“Z,” he whispers, shoving him. Zayn groans in response, not moving. “We gotta eat dude. And you still have to talk to your parents and pack.”

Zayn stirs at that, grumpy and sleep-swollen eyes peeking out from his mess of tangled hair.

“Can we eat ice cream?” he asks, a question much too sweet for the currently murderous look he has on his face.

“‘Course,” Louis replies. “What else would you expect? It’s too hot for anything else.”

At that, Zayn stretches up before rolling off the bed, stumbling to Louis’ nightstand to flick on his lamp.

“‘Kay,” he yawns, already making his way out of Louis’ room and down to his kitchen. 

Louis follows, hopping up on the counter and grasping the carton of ice cream as Zayn hands it to him. Zayn sits next to him, their legs swinging together as they alternate taking bites of the ice cream, passing the spoon back and forth.

They eat until Louis feels sick, stomach protesting the amounts of dairy and sugar he had consumed. 

“Should probably get home,” Zayn speaks up, the first one to since they came downstairs.

“Yeah, okay,” Louis replies, the heat and his full stomach already making him heavy with sleep again. “Just call if you can’t go, or else just come over in the morning, I dunno what time they were planning on coming to get us,” he explains as he walks Zayn towards his front door.

“Okay,” Zayn replies, too summer-heavy to say anything more.

“Okay,” Louis repeats.

They embrace tightly for a moment before Louis pulls back, shoving at Zayn’s shoulder lightly.

“Later, man.”

“Later.”

With that, Louis closes the door and makes his way back upstairs, brushing his teeth before heading back into his room. The sun had only just gone down, so it couldn’t be that late, maybe nine or ten, but Louis strips to just his boxers and slides into his bed anyway, sheets cool on his warm skin.

**

Waking in the morning, Louis shuffles into the shower and changes into something light before packing the rest of his bags. Just as he’s struggling to zip it up, he hears the front door open and a distinct voice call out a  _ ‘Lou I’m here' _ before trampling up the stairs loudly, most likely wearing those ridiculous combat boots Louis always teases him for.

“Hey, Z,” he greets as his door is flung open, revealing a very excited Zayn.

“Hey man,” he replies breathlessly, taking in the sight in front of him. “Need some help?”

At Louis’  _ ‘yes please’ _ , he zips the suitcase closed in one go, Louis sat fully on top.

“So,” Zayn starts. “What do we do while we wait for them? Feel like I’m too excited to sit still for even a second.”

Louis hums in agreement, mind searching.

“Could play a game? Hell yeah, I haven’t beat your sorry ass at Monopoly in  _ too _ long.”

Zayn groans but nods nonetheless, grabbing Louis’ suitcase and carrying it down the stairs while the other boy sets up the game on the living room floor.

“Come on, Zayn!” Louis draws out, pouting slightly as he sits crisscrossed in front of the board. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Zayn sits down across from him, fingers toying with the alarm clock piece he had chosen.

“Ready to get your ass handed to you, Malik?”

Zayn huffs out a laugh, replying with, “In your wildest dreams, bud.”

**

“You’re a fucking cheater!” Louis screams, arms reaching across the board to shove at the other boy’s shoulders harshly.

Zayn is laughing loudly, stomach actually hurting with the force of it as he doubles over, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Lou- Louis, you  _ suck _ man, I can’t-” he’s cut off by another burst of laughter.

Louis huffs, taking a deep breath to reply but is cut off by the shrill noise of his doorbell. Immediately after, he can hear the soft patter of one of his sisters going to answer the door and stands up to answer it himself.

“This isn’t over, you asshole,” he grumbles, pointing an accusatory finger towards Zayn.

Walking to the door, he hears Harry before he sees him, sighing when he sees Lottie in front of the door, tucking herself behind it except for her head, which peeks around to face Harry.

“Lottie, why don’t you go back outside for a minute, yeah? He’s here for me.”

Lottie, confused as ever as to why the boy in all of her older brother’s posters is currently standing on their porch, steps back hesitantly.

“That’s Harry Styles,” she states, 10-year-old mind ever so observant.

“Indeed it is, Lots, now excuse me, but he’s my guest. Go on now, play with your sisters.”

With that, he shoos her off, stepping into the half-open doorway and peering at Harry. Oh fuck, somehow in the past 40 hours he had forgotten how stunning he is in real life. He takes a deep breath, eyes raking over his body, taking him in.  His hair is parted down the middle, like usual, the front pieces gently framing his face, and he’s wearing an obscenely tight white t-shirt, practically see-through, and a pair of black flares, slightly heeled maroon boots on his feet.

Louis licks his lips. Fuck, he looks  _ illegal _ .

“Hi,” he breathes out as his eyes make their way back to the man’s face.

“Hi yourself, love bug,” he replies, usual smirk already in place. “I just learned some  _ very _ interesting things about you from your little sister, I must say.”

“Don’t believe a thing that comes out of her mouth. A little compulsive liar, that one,” Louis replies, already taking a step back. “Come inside, my mom wants to meet you.”

Harry goes easily when Louis wraps his fingers around his wrist, following as he leads him through the glass door in the dining room and into the backyard. Harry falters slightly as he sees the number of young girls running around and playing, all halting when they notice the man in their presence.

“Ignore them,” Louis says, bringing Harry to where his mother is currently sat at a table, resting under the shade of a large umbrella. “Mom,” Louis says, clearing his throat lightly. “This is Harry. Harry, this is my mom, Jay.”

She peeks an eye open, mouth splitting into a gentle smile as she reaches a hand out.

“Harry,” she says. “It’s very lovely to meet you. Just wanted to make sure you’ll keep our boy safe on the road this summer.”

Louis’ brain short circuits, grip on Harry’s wrist tightening momentarily. 

_ Our boy. _

“Of course, Ms. Tomlinson, wouldn’t have considered any other option even for a split second. I’ll keep a very close eye on him, don’t worry,” Harry replies, wrist twisting to intertwine his fingers with Louis’.

Louis thinks he just melted into a puddle of goo into his grass, sticky and sweet like those popsicles Daisy and Phoebe love this time of year.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Louis’ mom replies, still smiling brightly up at the two of them. “You guys best be going then, I’d hate to put you behind schedule. Zayn’s over there with the twins,” she nods to where the little girls are running around underneath the hose that Zayn is spraying them with. “Just make sure to call your sweet old mother every now and then, okay? You know it’s my job to worry, sweetheart.”

Louis lets go of Harry’s hand to bend down and wrap his mom in a tight hug. He really is going to miss her, along with all of his girls.

“Of course mom,” he says, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Give the girls hugs for me every night, please.”

He pulls back and smiles at her for a moment longer before grasping Harry’s hand once again and dragging him over to where Zayn currently is, at the bottom of a dogpile of Louis’ sisters.

“Girls!” he calls out, smile obvious in his voice. “Come say goodbye to me, I’m about to leave.”

Immediately, five small pairs of feet come scrambling towards him, barrelling into his legs and his lower stomach. He lets out a soft  _ oof _ , but laughs, wrapping his arms around them all the best he can.

“I love you girls, be good for mom, okay? I’ll talk to you all on the phone  _ all the time _ , okay?”

Louis presses a kiss to each of their heads, squeezing them once more before stepping back.

“I’ll miss you all, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Louis reassures, giving them all one last hug, trying to ignore their teary eyes. “Now go back to playing in the water, okay? Have a good summer.”

With that, he walks back into the house, hand in Harry’s, and Zayn trailing behind them.

“I’ll grab your bag, little,” Harry says softly, already letting go of Louis’ hand with one last squeeze. “You look pretty in my necklace, by the way.”

  
Louis sniffs slightly, mumbling out an  _ ‘okay’ _ and  _ ‘thank you’ _ with an ever-present blush on his face before following behind Harry and his best friend. Stepping out onto his front porch, a laugh is forced out of Louis as he catches sight of the obnoxious tour bus parked on the street in front of his mediocre house in his modest neighborhood. Stepping onto the bus behind Zayn and Harry, hand outstretched in front of him to interlock his fingers with the rockstar’s, he can’t help but feel like this is the beginning of something, the start of something _more_ than any of his previous summers in a deeper way than just the obvious.


End file.
